The Them I Used to Know
by ice-connoisseur
Summary: TORCHWOOD Tosh's thoughts and feelings about each of her workmates after Greeks Baring Gifts. Wandering rambletype thing, in five parts. And finally...a final.
1. Jack

**Title**: The Them I Used to Know

**Author**: Kates Master, also known as Emma

**Category**: Torchwood

**Spoilers**: Up to and including "Greeks Baring Gifts", but nothing ground shattering.

**Disclaimer**: Nope, nada, ziltch. I own nothing. Except a poster.

**Archive**: Sure, just let me know.

Ok. So. Another forage into Doctor Who, via the side gate of Torchwood. I started this ages ago, but I've only just got around to finishing it all off. There's not really any storyline, although I do delve a little into the characters pasts, it's more a look at the feelings and thoughts. I've been sitting on this for a few weeks now, for some reason reluctant to let it go…but here goes. There's going to be 5 altogether – one for each member, and a finishing chapter, and they're all set immediately after the end of "Greeks Baring Gifts".

Oh, and **important**! I began writing this before "They Keep Killing Suzie", so any mention of Suzie is how I pictured her being, not how she actually turned out in the series. So yes, she's out of character for the BBC, but that's just because I had her somewhat different.

**Dedication**: To **Kezzybabes**, **OldJohn**, **Springmaus**, **Teg**, **rose-tyler**, and all you others on **Torchwood.TV** who logged on religiously almost every Sunday to compare and discuss each episode as it aired. You made a great thing even better. And also to **jackharkness** and **Kurly**, for keeping the site going. Kudos to you both.

* * *

You're walking away again.

You're always doing that – not just to me, to all of us. You swoop in, saving us, hurting us, very nearly killing us if Ianto is anything to go by, and then you just…walk away. Like you don't care.

But you do. At least, I think you do. Or maybe that's just hope.

It's strange, when I think about it, how little we know about you. Not even your birthday! You've never celebrated it, at least, not with us. Maybe you've got this whole double life going on, a hidden alias that none of us know anything about.

But I doubt it.

We must all have these snippets of you – we're not stupid, and you know it, or we wouldn't be working with you still. Are you doing it on purpose? Sort of the ultimate test? Giving each of us separately just enough to let us know that something's different, but not enough to work it out unless we all put our heads together.

Gwen knows something, I know that much. She's the sort of person that would – the person you want to tell everything. Innocent, naive even, the first time she stepped in there, clutching a pizza of all things. The police could never have prepared her for this. I can't hate her, either. I should, I think. Or maybe she was the wake up call I needed, to shelve a fantasy that would never become reality.

I bet you've told her stuff, though. Stuff about your past…nothing concrete, but bits of it. And she'd never tell anyone, cause that's Gwen. The reminder that we needed, the reminder that there's more to life than aliens, the reminder not to turn out like Suzie.

I wonder if Suzie knew stuff. She was here before me, after all, been here the longest out of all of us. Except you. Maybe there's a whole long list, tracing back right to the founding of Torchwood 3, of all the employees, and maybe you're on it right from the start. Maybe, if I dug deep enough, I'd find some old Torchwood worker who's in his 80's now, and used to work under you as well. Do Torchwood Recruits retire? Funny that I've never wondered that.

Maybe you're alien. You're definitely not human. But then, that doesn't really classify you as alien, not straight away. Would have done, once. Maybe that's why this Torchwood's different from London's Torchwood was…I remember going there once, and it was so crowdedly gleaming and white! Like a hospital – Owen would have felt right at home there. But he wouldn't have done, not really.

And then there's us, five in total, underground, kind of dirty, often stupid, prone to bouts of immaturity…I wonder which way works best. Or if we both work equally badly.

I wish you'd tell us. Maybe just because I'm a nosey person, even though I'm not, not really, but mainly cause as long as you don't tell us, what can we do? Work with you, joke with you, hate you, but never know you. Do you have a family? Friends outside of the Hub? Do you even exist outside the Hub? You're not on any Torchwood records that I can access, I know that much. No sign of a birth certificate either. And believe me, I've looked.

You've got a lot of smiles. There's the "come hither" smile for when you're trying to sexually harass Ianto; the all knowing one for when one of us is being particularly stupid about something; the begging one for when you wants a coffee; the…well, the list goes on.

But then there're the smiles that aren't just facial expressions, they're almost like glimpses of another Jack that doesn't exist anymore.

The one you get in the middle of a case, right in the middle of it when the solution is just round the corner, begging to be found. A smile of mad excitement, like you're properly alive for just those few moments. And the one when you've been explaining something for hours, carefully going through it, and we're all finally beginning to follow what you're going on about – a smile of accomplishment.

And my favourite, maybe 'cause it's so infrequent. You had it the other day, when I walked in on you all, and Gwen and Owen were acting like a pair of five year olds, Gwen singing, and Owen throwing stuff at her. And you, sitting and watching them, smiling and laughing properly, truly enjoying yourself. But the look in your eyes…like you weren't seeing them. Well, you were, but you were seeing other people too, at the same time.

I wonder who they were, those other people, the one's you're seeing when you're not really seeing us, smiling those special secret smiles.

I think I know.

I never told you this…well, I was scared of what you'd do to me if I did, to be honest, but I think I saw them once, the Others. Couple of years ago now, I'd only been up here for maybe 6 months. You'd been acting funny all week, jumpier than usual, running scans and checks like there was no tomorrow. And then suddenly dumping us all with so much admin work that we couldn't move for a good three days. And disappearing into the depths of your office, only ever emerging when Ianto wafted coffee in your direction.

Except me, being the new girl, couldn't keep still long enough. Told myself it was a lunch break, not that such things seem to exist in my life any more, and wandered up out. The lift was out of order, I remember, for some reason that you never quite explained, so I had to walk out the dock way. I'd got a sandwich from somewhere, and was wandering round the square with it…couldn't quite bring myself to disappear underground again…and suddenly, I heard your voice. Laughing as you spoke, carefree, happy laughter that I'd never heard before. If I hadn't seen you, I wouldn't have thought it was you. But there you were, across the other side of the square, walking backwards as you talked to another couple, gesticulating wildly and somehow avoiding obstacles without turning round. The pair you were with…I dunno who they were. Never seen them before or since. Young girl, not much over 20, clutching the hand of a bloke who must have been in his forties. All three of you, smiling and laughing like the world was your oyster. Wish I'd had a camera.

Eventually, guilty thoughts about exactly what I wasn't doing drove me back in, and when you reappeared that evening, in the foulest mood I've ever seen, I wondered if I'd imagined the entire thing.

But I didn't, I'm sure of that. There's so much of you we know nothing of, but I know that little bit, and I'll remember it 'til the day I die.

I don't know what happened that day, but it seemed to be the final straw in some sort of ongoing feud, cause I never saw or heard of those two again. If I didn't know better, I'd say the man I saw in the square and the man I work for were two different people. Maybe they are. Just happen to inhabit the same body.

And where does that leave me? Nowhere, really. Just here, sitting on this bench, watching you disappear into the crowd. You smiled at me, and wiped away my tears, and left me. Maybe that's how they left you, all those years ago.

I'll never know you, Jack Harkness. I could never even begin to understand your life, the wealth of experience and knowledge and passion that is you. So I'll mourn you instead, the man you used to be. You're still a great man now, don't get me wrong, but that's just a label. Once upon a time, you were so much more.

Maybe it's time travel. I've seen enough now to know that it's not impossible. Maybe the you I saw that day was a past you, or, I hope, a future you. But my bet is on past, because the man you are now is the broken shell of the man you were that day.

I cry for you, Jack Harkness. For the you you used to be, for the people who made you that person, and the people, probably the same ones, who took it all away from you again.

I cry for you, Jack Harkness, and for the them you used to know.

* * *

And there you have it. Next chapter should be up sometime in the next couple of days.

Especially in this chapter, but also later on, there are some random moments which I'm not entirely sure make sense. This started off going in one direction, swerved, and finished off somewhere else entirely. So I apologise for anything that made/makes no sense, or seems not to fit in properly.

Review!!! Constructive criticism welcome, flames shall be given to my sister to play with.


	2. Ianto

So. Erm. Yeah. Apologies to all – I know I promised I'd have this up a week ago. Ready for the excuse? It's half term over here in sunny Wales, so my family went on our usual holiday to stay with my Nana down in Somerset. Which was lovely, except that in the packing to go I totally forgot about this entire story, until we were halfway down the motorway. And I've been internet-less until today, since there's not a computer to be seen at my Nanas! So I apologise profusely.

Many thanks to those who reviewed last time – they made my day!

And so, on we go again…next up, Ianto!

* * *

I wish there was a law in Torchwood, that you had to tell your entire life story the moment you became employed. Well, I don't really – could you imagine it! – but it would save so much…

Like Ianto and Lisa. He's so cut up inside, and yet to look at him you'd never think it. He's seen so much…more, maybe, than any of us, except perhaps Jack. He was in Torchwood 1, after all. I remember the look on Jacks face when the news came through. We'd known something was wrong – the rift readings those few months building up to it were going haywire, and then the ghosts…but we never even dreamed…

I went there, once. Only once. With Jack, to some meeting. I meet Ianto then, and Lisa, although I don't think he remembers. She was working in one of the halls, computer stuff, and Ianto was doing coffee as always. I remember the look on her face when he bought her a cup – just smiled up at him like he was the greatest thing in the world. That's why I remember – I wished then that someone would look at me that way.

That night, when we got back from that village, Ianto and me came back here and I just ranted at him about her for about an hour. Called Gwen all the names under the sun, and a few I'd picked up from the various texts that end up on my desk. And he just sat there and listened, and offered me a cup of coffee at the end of it. Trust Ianto.

Never did get the coffee though – we both just suddenly burst into tears. Like the last two days had suddenly crashed down on us all at once.

He was crying about Lisa, too, I think, although he never said her name once. I don't know if he had cried properly since she died, but he definitely did then. Proper earth shaking sobs, the pair of us. Like the world had ended. Which, in a way, it had.

I thought he hated us, for a little while. Ianto, I mean, after Lisa. Half expected to find poison in the coffee – he's certainly got the drugs and the know-how to do it. I won't kid myself that he just forgave us like that, with a click of his fingers. But of all of us, Ianto…he doesn't hold a grudge, not like we can. Or if he does, it's a private grudge.

I first knew he didn't hate us when he came in for the first time, a few mornings later. He'd been in and out a couple of times, wandering round with a binbag, but that morning he was back officially. And he nodded at us all, just like he always did, and bought us coffee when his coffee sensing skills picked up on our need for it. But just before he left – it was, thank god, one of those normal days when we weren't of careening round Cardiff – he came up to each of us with one last mug, and stared at us all. Separately, just for a moment. And then he left. It was the first time in ages that I can remember him actually leaving before the rest of us.

Something about those few moments, when he was looking at me…I knew then that he didn't hate me. Disliked me, yes, a little, but not so much that he couldn't forgive me. He even forgave Jack, in the end, I think.

I wish I'd known the old Ianto, the one before Canary Wharf. I wonder how different he was to the one I know now. Don't get me wrong – I love this Ianto, but it's the same why I love this Jack. I'm all the while wondering if I'd have loved the old them's more.

He doesn't laugh, not this Ianto. He smiles, and occasionally chuckles, but I've never once heard him laugh, not properly. He was laughing in London, though. I wish…and there I go again, wishing. Nothing ever comes of wishing. Doing, yes, but not wishing. If you spend your life wishing, everyone else gets there first.

But still…I wish I could change it all, Ianto. Honestly I do. You do so much for us, and we hardly ever repay you. You're broken, I can see that in you now in a way that I couldn't before. You're broken, and nothing I do can ever fix you. If I could…but I can't, so it's no use thinking it.

I'll cry for you, though, partly because you won't cry for yourself, and partly because I need to cry. I'll cry for you, and for Lisa, and for the times you never had.

For the you I'll never know.

* * *

Ho hum. Not my favourite to write, but needed. And I do wish Ianto had got a bit more air time too – him and Myfanwy both! 


	3. Suzie

Hey ho, I really need to organise myself. If appears that when I don't set myself weekly update days, I totally forget about the story. Hence why this one is such a long time in coming.

This is actually what first lead me to turn this into a set of things, instead of a oneshot – I was just doing Jack, when it suddenly branched off into Suzie. So I thought…hey, why not. I've only got 2 other stories, exams that will shape the next few years of my life and a whole tonne of needed work experience to get through these next couple of months.

Who'd have an easy life, hey?

So. Suzie. **Major Warning** – I wrote this BEFORE "They Keep Killing Suzie." Therefore, this is my interpretation of her character, and there is very little relationship between my Suzie and the actual Suzie – two completely different people. Or possibly not. It's hard to tell how much the glove could have changed her.

But this is how I like to think she was.

* * *

I wish Suzie wasn't dead. She was better at thoughts than me, although that's not difficult. She knew people, back before. When Jack was talking to Mary about his friend – Vincent? – I wondered if that was who he was really thinking of. Or whether it was Suzie, who changed so much those last couple of months. Stopped coming out, stopped talking, stopped mucking about when things were slow. Maybe we should have seen it coming. Maybe Jack blames himself for not doing so.

She liked Gwen, though - first time I saw her even vaguely interested in something that wouldn't fit on her hand for months. Disagreed with Jack about the amnesia pill. Said we ought to consider giving her a chance. I can see her, sometimes, as though she's never gone, still cluttering about the place, spraying oil and bits of machinery everywhere. Back to how she was before. Maybe she and me and Gwen could have gone on girlie nights out, mooned over fit actors and the like, like you do in college. Been proper friends, not just work friends. Would've been nice, having the girls equal out the boys.

'Course, in reality, that would never have happened. We're all too busy, all got too much else to do. Nice to dream, though.

Suzie and Jack made a good pair, I always reckoned. They sort of bounced off each other, one taking the lead, then suddenly switching places. Jack always the leader, in the end, but Suzie always there too, when she was needed. Like during my first few weeks, when she explained it all to me –how to get the best cup of coffee from Ianto, how to annoy Jack, and then, later on, she helped me work out the best way of getting back at Owen when he got too annoying…everything. Bit like a sister, I suppose.

She was always private. Well, we all were. Are. None of us are ones for spilling our intricate secrets to each other, but Suzie was privater than most. I'm not even sure if that's a word.

I hate all this talking about her in the past tense. But Suzie's dead, and it's something I'm going to have to get used to. I think she died the moment that glove touched her hand – the Suzie I knew would never have murdered anyone, no matter what the cause.

But then, how well did I really know her?

She knew loads about me. Well, more than the others - about my crush on Owen, about the time I thought I'd deleted the entire Internet...that was an interesting few days. Hardly told me anything in return though. Bits and pieces…she was as bad as Jack.

I wish we'd never found that glove. Wish I could turn back time, and destroy it the moment Owen bought it in. Wish I'd seen what it was doing. Wishing you were somehow here again. Wish I could turn round and see you there, overalls on and some bit of equipment or another in your hand. Wish you would just walk through the door again, and it could be the six of us. And if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. You told me that once.

Great. Now I'm talking to a dead person. Seeing them is one thing, talking is quite another. I'll be hearing replies in a minute.

But that's what we do; us, the living. Talk to the dead, not 'cause they're interested in listening, but because we need someone to talk to.

Gwen's not your replacement, you know. She's different, and strange, and nothing like you, and nothing could ever even begin to live up to you. I like her though. You told me I would, in your smug, all knowing way. Like there was never any doubt.

But I doubted it. Oh boy, did I. Even now…well, I say even, should be especially now, but even now I wonder if maybe, just once in your life you could have been wrong.

Of course, you couldn't be. Even when you're dead, you still manage to get the right answers quickest. You can't hate Gwen Cooper. It's like a universal law – everyone likes her. Even me. She's a back stabbing bitch, but I can't help loving her. Like I loved you. Like I, for some strange and as yet unknown reason, seem to insist on loving the whole dam lot of you.

You promised me once, Suzie Costello. You promised me. "Ain't gonna lose me that easily. You're stuck with me now." Those were your exact words, after that weevil in Riverside when we thought you were dead and you suddenly popped up out of a hole. And then we all went back to the hub, and Ianto met us with coffee and data sheet printouts, and we sat in the conference room and laughed and threw rubbers at Owen when he started doing his Weevil impression, and none of us mentioned the fact that you'd nearly died. Had died, for those five minutes.

Did we think we were immortal? Maybe. I dunno. So much we never told each other. Jack knew, Jack's always known, that one day something's going to come along, and we're not gonna come out the other end smiling. You can see it in his eyes. Five of us, and someday we're all going to die. The glove was a wake up call, although we never saw it at first. But we just hit snooze, and now it's going to happen again, at some point, just _because._ We're Torchwood. Aliens are our life. Aliens will be our death.

You'd tell me off if you saw me now. Grab me by the shoulders and shake some sense into me. Or maybe you wouldn't. I don't know anymore. I thought I knew the others, thought they were my family, argumentative and dysfunctional as we are. And then you discover this whole other side to them as well.

Did you have another side too? Maybe, maybe not. Guess I'll never know. Just sit here and cry for the you I lost.

For the you I thought I knew.

* * *

Oooh, should have put this at the top…I've nicked the line/title of a musical song somewhere in here. Kudos and cookies if you can find it.

Review! Please! Danke!


	4. Gwen

Sorry! It seems that the minute I don't have a weekly update day, the story flies out of my head completely. Opps.

Thanks for all the reviews – glad most of you seemed to like "my" Suzie. Much apprichiated!

And so we turn to Torchwoods newest member…the lovely Gwen.

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Gwen Bloody Cooper. That's what Owen called you, when you started poking round. Jack set him onto finding out as much as he could about you, and you know how Owen hates that sort of thing. Ironic, really. He hated your name, those first few days we knew you even existed, and now…well. Now you're…having fun, and I'm stuck out here night after night, working on the latest bit of god-forsaken crap to drop down to us from on high. I'm not bitter, really I'm not.

And that's the problem – I'm not bitter. Or not so much that I'll never get over it. Because you, stupid big eyed, freckle-faced Gwen Cooper, will not let me hate you. Cow.

Maybe it was the look on your face when Owen told us all he'd kissed you - I was so mad I could have hit you, or more likely Owen, but some little part of me was pointing out that you were not happy. And then you said it was complicated, and I remembered one of those mad things Owen had said, months ago. It was late night, of course, just before the fiasco with the glove had started. We were all gathered in the boardroom, after some case or another, with pizza and coke, and maybe we'd had a bit too much of the coke (in some situations it can be worse than alcohol), 'cause anyway, we somehow got onto the subject of how we'd like to die. Ianto said somewhere clean, and quiet, so Jack told him he'd better start looking for another job, but I think he was joking. Suzie said she'd like to be in control of it, whenever it happened. Irony again. I said something about being happy, and then Jack said he'd go down fighting, out in a blaze of glory. That was a bit odd – it was almost like he wasn't speaking to us, but being somewhere else again. Anyway, then it was Owens turn, and he said he'd go down kissing. Suzie and I were indignant at this, and started laying into him, but he protested, saying something about the last kiss for the condemned man.

And then I remembered how you and him had hidden together during the Lisa affair, and I wonder…if you were about to die, maybe that's just what it was. A last kiss, no matter who the person was.

Obviously, now it's more than that. But even so, it's strangely comforting.

You are a strange one, Gwen. Different to the rest of us, in a different way to how we're all different to each other. I'm not sure that even makes sense.

It's like…there's more you than there is of the rest of us. You're more human, in a way. It's like you said, that first day, with all the business with Carys. We're forgetting. I didn't notice it 'til then, but now I know it's hard to put it out of my mind. I see some of the things we do, and I wonder…would I have agreed to this, once? And all to often, my answer seems to be no.

I worry about you, Gwen. You're not meant for this life, not like we are. We've all got our dark pasts or odd encounters that led us here – Owen and his past, Ianto and Lisa, me and that pig in London, Jack…well, I dunno what, but he needs to be here more than any of us. But you…if not for that night, you'd still be in the police, going home every night, happy. And we're changing you into something completely different, into someone who's not Gwen Cooper anymore.

And I worry. 'Cause it was Gwen Cooper we wanted – needed - here, and if we're turning you into someone who's not Gwen anymore, then what do we do?

The old Gwen would never have cheated on her boyfriend, never have lied to him or her friends. Just like, many years ago, I wouldn't have done either. Until Torchwood.

Maybe that's it. I see myself, a much, much younger me from so long ago, but still clinging on somewhere, and I see her in you. And then I see what I've turned into. Another Torchwood being. I don't want that to happen to you, Gwen. I want you to keep on living, being totally and utterly yourself in the way that only you can. It's there, in your mind, I could hear it, underneath all that stuff about Owen, I could hear the old you thinking about someone called Nat, and whether you were gonna make it to the pub next weekend. And that's who you should be – that should be the biggest worry in your life, not whether we're going to live to see the end of the day.

I wish I could have known you without Torchwood. Wish I could have been one of the people you met with on Saturdays to go out down the pub or stay in with a film. Then I could have stopped you, made sure you never saw us or the glove, made sure you never found us.

Why do I keep wanting to protect you? It makes no sense. We're all in the same boat, yet you seem to be on a different sea. Maybe 'cause you're the only one I'm seeing the true before and after of, and it scares me.

I want to tell you to hold onto your life, not to loose track of it, not to get too wrapped up, but I'm scared at how you'll take it. We've got a friendship, I think, but it's a new, fragile thing, and I don't want to shatter it.

I cry for you, Gwen Cooper. Bloody idiot, ex-police woman, sort of adulterer, life and heart. I'll cry for you, because there is no way you can carry on like this forever. You're gonna crash, and crash hard, and how can we pick up the pieces when we can hardly hold our own together anymore? You'll never be the same, not ever now. Once Torchwood touches your life, there's no going back. I'll cry for you, and that idiot of a boyfriend of yours, and the friends you're leaving behind.

For the you I wish I could have known.

* * *

Only two more to go now…and they WILL be up soon. Promise.

Review!


	5. Owen

Hey ho, last but one now. Thanks for all the reviews – truly brightens my day to get them!

I had to think a lot about this one. Nearly left it out altogether, but hey, couldn't go leaving you all with an incomplete set! Plus, I'm feeling very Torchwood-y, partially because Doc Who is back next week, and partially because my dad is painting the doors in the sitting room. Makes no sense, until you learn that when Torchwood was on, my mum and dad were painting the walls in the sitting room, and so the smell of paint makes me think of Torchwood. Makes sense, I think…

* * *

I remember the first time I met you, Owen Harper. Only a few months after I'd joined up myself, although it always feels like you've been here longer. Do you remember? Jack bought you down, introduced you to us all. Ianto hunted you down, you know, after John retired. I liked John, although I only knew him a few weeks. Always told me he'd never meant to wind up here – wanted to open a practise up in the North. I guess patching us up after this fight or that accident just got too much in the end. I wonder where he is now…did he ever get his practise?

You couldn't have been more different. None of John's friendly smiles, soft voice, easy nature. You looked half wild when Jack bought you in, your eyes flicking all over the place as you took us all in. At the time, I thought you were awfully brave – you didn't seem fazed by any of it, not even when Myfanwy swooped down. Now I know that's just your way – cover any fear with a sort of aloof interest. You smiled at me, though, and winked, when I started showing you some of the basic equipment, which is really my name for the tour of buttons you must never push. I think that's when I first started to like you – I didn't even know your last name, but I didn't care. It was Mark Green and the chess club all over again.

We all have a sort of honeymoon period, it seems to me, at the start of our employment with torchwood. Gwen's was by far the shortest – hardly lasted 24 hours – but Owen and I…yeah, we did ok. Nothing more exciting than a weevil outbreak, and a few bits of this and that floating in through the rift. So we stayed round the hub most days, working, teasing, getting to know you. I miss those days.

Did you ever realise what you were getting yourself into, those first few days? I certainly didn't – one minute I'm dissecting a pig-type thing, the next I'm part of a secret government organisation, where living to the end of the day is a bonus.

What happened to you, Owen Harper? What happened to make you hate people so much? Don't deny it – I know it's true. Can't always have been the case – you trained to be a Doctor, for Christ's sake, you must have liked us at some point! So what changed your mind?

You got in trouble, I know that much. Big trouble. If Ianto hadn't found you, you'd most likely have been struck off. I just don't know what you did, and it annoys the hell out of me. Cause I know what you're like – if I don't find out for myself, you'll never tell me. You're as tight-lipped as Jack.

Maybe you fell in love. Although I guess that's a bit too much to hope of Owen Harper, womaniser extraordinaire. Could have been as drugs scam, I suppose, but I doubt it. Jack's done many things, not all of them legal, but I can't see him taking on someone who's been dealing out drugs to the masses. My bet is it was something he thought you were wrongly accused for, or maybe something you were over-judged for.

Gwen's good for you, I think, for now. But then, they all seem good when you start out, those few girls you manage to hold on to for more than one night. Maybe you just like the idea of a girl who, in some way or another, needs you. Really needs you, emotionally as well as physically. Some sort of ironic knight in shining armour. You swoop in on them, pluck them up, make them feel special and loved and needed, but somehow you can never hold onto it. The obligations, the need…maybe for you the reality is always far worse than the idea.

You're a bit like Jack in that sense. Needing to swoop in and rescue the damsel, but never quite able to carry on any further. You're too alike, you two. Both like being in control, both far to good-looking for your own good…maybe that's why you clash so often. You scare me, sometimes. I can't help but think one of you will kill the other one of these days, and then what a sorry state we'll all be in. We won't function properly without you, Owen, I hope you know that. You annoy the hell out of me, you're insensitive, you're a bloody idiot half the time, but damm we need you. We need all of us, one way or another. You take one of us out, the rest of us fall to pot. We wavered with Suzie, another blow would knock us down entirely.

I wish I knew if you realised just how much we need you here. Because someone ought to tell you if you don't. I worry about you sometimes – you've got a dark side, I know, and I don't want you consumed by it. I don't want the scale tipped so far that you fall to a point of no return.

But somehow I can't quite muster up the courage to tell you. To make you realise. So I sit here and cry instead, like a pathetic girl, and wish to the stars, which aren't really that interested anyway. Wish that you know what no-one will tell you.

I cry for you, Owen Harper. For you, and the you I hope you know.

* * *

And that's it. Just the closing down chapter to do now, and then we're done. Should be up sometime in the next week, although I'm on work experience lambing, so I'm not sure when!

Reviews make me smile.


	6. End Game

So this is it, my friends…at long last I've finally got around to posting the final bit of random wanderings…thanks for all the reviews, they are a joy to receive.

And now Doctor Who is back, I need no longer fight off the glooms of no weekend TV. Oh happy day!

* * *

We are a stupid bunch of people, when it comes down to it. Earths last defence; a bunch of immature idiots, with a hidden base somewhere underneath Cardiff. Not exactly the most cheering thought in the world. It's so much nicer to know that there is a defence than to be part of the defence, and to know just how precarious it is.

I miss the days when my greatest excitement was this new gadget or that new button. Thinking about it, half of them probably came from Torchwood at some point. I miss being so utterly amazed by a pig in a spacesuit. I miss being so naive.

I had a normal life, once. Well, almost normal. I worked 9 'til 5, went home, had dinner, stayed in or went out, visited my dad every Sunday without fail. And now look at me. An amazing, spectacular mess of thoughts and emotions, so all over the place that not even Ianto and his clean-up skills could mop me up again.

Is it all our own faults? Did we bring this upon ourselves? Something in our childhood, a choice, a turning, that dictates that this is where we're going to turn up? Or is it just pure chance?

We're stuck in it now, I know that much. No going back, not from the moment you first set eyes on anyone of us. No matter how brief the glimpse, we stay with you forever, a thought that no amount of Retcon can take away. Always that touch of niggling doubt. Wondering…

I wish we could be normal. But at the same time, I wouldn't change this for the world. Just when I think we've hit rock bottom, just when I think, "this is it…this is the point where we all fall apart," then something'll actually go right for us, and we'll end up back at the Hub laughing and joking almost like normal people. It's like the fates like to test us, to see how far they can throw us before we bounce right back again.

But how many times can we bounce before the elastic breaks?

I'll cry you, Jack Harkness. And for Suzie, and Owen and Ianto, and even Gwen, even though I think I should hate her, and hate myself for thinking that. I'll cry for us all, and for the people that broke us. Once upon a time, I thought I knew you all. If this necklace taught me anything, it was that I'll never know you, not really. We work together, live together day in day out, playing and laughing and screaming and dying. But we'll never know each other. Never know where Rhys took Gwen for Valentines day, never know what Ianto's brother's up to now…I don't even know if Ianto has a brother. Never know any of the stuff normal office workers share about each other. But then, we'll never be normal office workers.

I wonder what you're all doing tonight. Maybe you'll tell me tomorrow. Most likely you won't.

It's getting colder, and the bench is beginning to make my bum go numb. Hey ho, home we go. Shower, and heat up a lasagne for one. And then bed…or maybe not bed. Not after…that.

Maybe I'll sleep on the sofa tonight.

I'll curl up, with a cushion and a Jane Austen. And I'll cry, just a little bit more. I'll cry for the me, for the dreams I had and the life I've got, for the decisions my mind can't quite decide on. For the life I thought I had, and the life I'll never know.

I'll cry for us all. For the them I used to know.

* * *

And there we have it. The end. Hope you enjoyed it. Tell me your thoughts – they are much appreciated! 


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